


Timeless

by HoneyButterYum



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Eventual Smut, Explosions, Farmer!Junkrat, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Hayseed Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, M/M, Mystery, OCs are probably gonna be the crappy ones, Paranormal, Slow Burn, Time Travel, and the criminals become the crime solvers themselves, but he’s human for most of it, but honestly isn't that mostly every fic relationship, but that’s not a surprise, for plot reasons, i guess, mako just wanted to live quietly goddamnit, more like acquaintances to friends to lovers, probably should’ve mentioned that earlier, set in the 80s and in 2016 so that’ll be fun, thank god, the dates are a mystery, time shit, uhhh shitty working environments?, wet wood slow burn, will add more tags as needed, y’all are here for roadrat and so am I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyButterYum/pseuds/HoneyButterYum
Summary: There was once a farmer boy who could dream of the future.





	1. Speechless

**Author's Note:**

> So basically this is my first time writing fanfic so here’s to me getting out of my comfort zone for once in my life

‘Home Sweet Home’ it said on the blood-splattered picture frame. Jamison Fawkes knew better than to trust it as he spat out a tooth onto the wood floor. What a joke.

He hefted himself up, scrawny ribs and limbs aching from bruises, face stinging with cuts. As he spat out more blood, he ran his tongue over the dip where his tooth had been and over his split lip. He needed some cotton.

Jamie clung to his crutch and limped to his workbench as best as he could on the only leg he had. The old wood stool creaked under his weight as he settled himself onto it. Once he’d cleared away blueprints for machinery and explosives, he opened a drawer and took out a reddened rag and notebook. He bit down on the rag, more of his blood seeping into the dirty cloth. Hopefully that would slow the bleeding.

The notebook was a different story. Jamie opened it to one of the clean blank pages in the back cover, then wrote down the date: XX-XX-1986. Beneath it, he jotted down a short list of events.

 _-fed chickens_  
_-fell n got mud on boss_  
_-cant remember_  
_-woke up_

Jamie flipped to the previous page, then the next, until he could recall most of the past three days. Yesterday he’d washed the cows and a few other workers pushed him into the soapy bucket of water. The day before that, he’d herded the sheep into the barn and someone had snapped his crutch. And before that, he'd fed the pigs. Not much else had happened there, unless he counted one of his favorite pigs being sent to the butcher. Jamie turned back one more page. The ink had been a bit smudged, but the numbers could still be made out: XX-XX-2016. He closed the book.

He wasn't sure when it started, exactly; even with hundreds of old notebooks, a strange date thirty years ahead could be found in all of them. It started off as just a dream. Wishes to invent new tech, a far-fetched childhood desire.

Jamison knew better now. The wall in front of him proved it, a timeline of sorts. Newspaper clippings were taped over each other and thumbtacks held multiple lines of multi-colored string across the wall. Most clippings dated to past or present years, but some were doodles of news headlines that dated around the 2000s.

Jamie picked up some string and taped the most recent fake clipping to the wall. Some of his blood had dried on the paper, but that had become more of an expectation for the recent clippings he’d drawn. Once he’d finished adding the newest addition to his timeline, he stood from his stool and wobbled to the cot in the corner of the room.

Jamie’s bruises ached as he fell forward onto his tattered mattress and stared at the door to his shack. From what he could piece together, he’d been able to lock the door behind himself before he fell unconscious. Somehow. It was a surprise he'd been able to get inside his shack at all, though Jamie supposed he was glad he didn't end up dead this time.

Jamie’s body protested as he got up from his cot. At first, he went to put a news doodle up on his wall, but then he turned to pace around his room once he’d found his pockets empty and the news headline taped up.

He was out of clean bandages. Mostly everything, really. But every time he left his haven, he risked losing even more. A tooth, for example. Almost an arm, once. Now _that_ would’ve made things difficult. _Two_ missing limbs to deal with.

When he tried to use his crutch to turn around, the tip snapped and he collapsed to the ground with a yelp. Jamie hissed in pain, his hands covering his mouth to muffle his whimpers. If anyone was around and heard him…. Damn, he _knew_ he should’ve used something better than tape. That shitty stuff was the only thing he _wasn’t_ running out of.

What he needed was better equipment, a prosthetic, even. God help him if he could walk on his own.

Jamie took a deep breath and closed his eyes. At least in the future he could walk outside without fearing for his life. Sure, that future was just as lonely as this present, but it had more freedom. And that was good enough for him.

When he opened his eyes, the soft light of twilight no longer filtered through the cracks in his walls or under his door. Instead, he lied on the old floor of the ruins of his shack and looked up at the cloudless orange sky.

He sat up and looked behind him. Where the door should be was only open space, weeds and grass poking up through the wood of the entryway. About forty feet of flat ground littered with debris separated the shack with the main barn, a run-down farmhouse further up a slope. A strange feeling coiled in Jamie’s chest at the knowledge of this, of knowing this shitty farm would be turned into debris and twigs, even if now minor renovations had been done to the area. He couldn't help a grin. He hoped he at least had a part in the mayhem of the farm’s future.

Jamison reached for a broken board near the wall and got to his…foot, then held onto the board like a cane as he wobbled out of the shack.

From what Jamie knew when he dreamed of 2015, the buildings were in utter disarray. In this dream in 2016, though, less debris was scattered across the ground and the actual farmhouse looked like there'd been some renovation done to it. It didn't seem like much, but from what Jamison knew of it in both his present and in the recent future, it was on its way to being at least livable again.

Jamie’s arms burned from the strain of walking with a goddamn board as a crutch, but with nothing else, he’d rather walk with a board than hop around like a rabbit. It wasn’t like there was anyone around to see him anyway.

He kept his distance from the farmhouse and headed inside the barn. If he woke up, he’d rather be found with the cows and pigs than inside the farmhouse. His curiosity wasn't intense enough to make him want to lose another limb. The one leg was bad enough.

Jamie shouldered open the large doors to the barn, then shuffled inside. It smelled of rot and damp wood and hay, almost identical to his barn in 1986. The interior wasn't as wrecked as outside, which gave Jamison some hope for the animals that took shelter there in the present.

Once he made his way to the back of the barn, Jamie leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. He still had to feed the pigs, and it was safer to travel through time to get to the barn than to stay in the present.

Yet just as Jamison was about to close his eyes, the old barn door let out a shriek as its rusted hinges swung open and the light of dusk shone past a mountain of a man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get it it’s called speechless because there’s literally no dialogue


	2. Spineless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't have anxiety over their dialogue and over every single bit of this chapter and I totally didn't use lines straight from the game and comics either

Massive. Jamison couldn’t find a better word, just massive and powerful. The man’s every step made the floorboards under him shudder and squeak as he walked into the barn. He didn’t seem to have noticed Jamie, but if he had, Jamison probably would’ve died from the awe and terror that spiked in his blood.

Well, maybe that wouldn’t be too bad.

The man’s head turned as he looked around the ruins of the barn. Now it had gotten too dark to see his face, but Jamison didn’t risk any movement. His way out was blocked anyway, the man’s huge stature an effective barricade.

Jamison had to do _something_. He crawled on his hands and knee into one of the stalls. Hay littered the floor in piles, and Jamie burrowed as much as he could into the pile until he felt a yank at his collar, and he was wrenched from his hiding spot.

“Hey—!” He kicked and swung his fists, but it was no use. The man was stronger than Jamie had originally thought, not budging at any blow Jamison laid on him. With not much else as an option, Jamison went limp, his hands trembling as they grasped the man’s thick wrist. “L-let's talk this out, mate,” he said with a choked chuckle, his throat burning as his shirt collar dug into his skin.

Silence only prevailed in the far corners of the barn, as the man’s heavy breathing and Jamison’s own nervous giggles rang in Jamie’s ears. Now that he was so close, Jamison could make out the man’s round jaw and broad nose, and was that huge area that crept down his cheek…scar tissue?

The man let go of Jamison’s collar and let him fall to the floor, his giggles breaking off so he could gasp for air. “Shut up,” the man said, voice deep and rough, and Jamison felt a spike of something warm roll down his spine. “Did you not read the sign? Trespassers will be shot.”

Jamie coughed and let out a string of laughs as he rubbed at his raw throat. “No-ow see, this is all jus’ a misunderstanding, I'm— Ah—!” The man took a step closer, and Jamison scrambled back. “I-I live ‘ere, mate, I ain't trespassin’—”

“I own this property now, and it sure as hell looks like you’re trespassing to me.”

“ _No,_ ya drongo,” Jamison said with a frustrated groan. “I ain’t got nowhere else to go!” He _couldn’t_ go anywhere else; he had to be in the barn to feed the pigs their dinners, and he’d never forgive himself if he had to see their disappointed faces another time.

The man scoffed. “Ain’t my problem. Get off my property.”

Jamie growled and lifted his hands to grasp clumps of his hair. He couldn’t explain, but he couldn’t _not_ explain, but— “I gotta job to do and I’m runnin’ outta time! Jus’ lemme finish that an’ _then_ you can be a big ol’ arse!” He grumbled to himself as he crawled back to the far wall of the barn. Who did this guy think he was, letting the pigs go hungry like this?

The man was quiet until Jamison had settled himself once again. He took out something from his pocket, then shined a bright light on Jamie’s face. As Jamison let out a hiss and covered his bruised face, the man knelt and grabbed Jamie’s wrist to lower it. Jamison pushed on the man’s hand to try and wring himself from his grip, but like before, it was no use.

“Stay still,” the man muttered, slight impatience in his tone.

“An’ why should I listen to you, huh?” Jamison grunted as he pushed on the man’s hand, then slumped against the wall once he tired himself out.

The man sighed and continued to shine his strange flat flashlight over Jamison’s body. He paused once he saw the stump of Jamie’s right thigh, the tied cloth there dotted with red the color of rust. A decision seemed to take root in the man’s mind. “Mako.”

“What?” Jamison raised a brow. The man turned off his flashlight and Jamie blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness once more.

“Mako,” the man repeated as he let go of Jamison and stood up.

Jamison furrowed his brow and cocked his head. “What in the hell is a mako?”

A moment passed before the man let out a deep, heavy sigh. “My name.”

“Oh! Right, ‘course it is!” Jamison grinned at this truce, no matter where it came from. “I knew you looked like a fine, upstanding sort, Mako.” Mako grunted, then continued to stare at Jamie. It took him a second. “Ah, name’s Jamison. Or Jamie, if you’d like.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Jamison let out a laugh. “Right, well, Jamison it is, then!” He pulled his knee to his chest and leaned forward. “So, uh, what made ya wanna come to this dump, mate?”

Mako crossed his arms. “Didn’t you say you had a job to do?”

“Ah! Nearly forgot.” Jamison shooed Mako away. “Got meself a job to do, mate. No need to hang around ‘ere anymore!”

“Hey, you’re not getting outta this with just that.” Mako let out a growl and pointed at Jamie. “If I’m gonna let your sorry ass hang around here, you’re gonna help me clean this place up.”

Jamison pouted, then nodded. Though it wouldn’t be quite as fun as just flattening this place to the ground, Jamie supposed that if someone like Mako was living here, it couldn’t be too bad. “I guess it’s a deal, then! Thanks, mate.”

“Yeah.” Mako glanced to the side. “Stay out of trouble.”

Oh, now _that_ was a good one. “I’ll be on me best behavior,” Jamison said with a soft chuckle. He yawned and rested his head back against the wall.

Jamie parted his lips to say goodbye, but he blinked once—he swore it was just once—before he opened his eyes to a different sight, to a faceful of pig snout. “Gah!” He let out a hiss when he rammed his head back against the pen in surprise. The pigs oinked out their concern as they gathered around him. Jamison smiled, then reached out and pet the nearest pig’s speckled back. “Sorry I’m so late, Gordy.” He let out a small laugh, then stood and looked around the barn, much different than it was a minute ago. It had soft light coming from a few lightbulbs that hung from the ceiling, and all the boards and walls weren’t broken and in ruin.

Jamie’s gaze lingered at the closed barn doors. When he finished feeding the pigs and hopped back to his shack in the darkness, he took out his notebook and began to jot down a long list of events. To start, he wrote a name: Mako.

And everything fell into place after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mako uses a samsung, I'm sorry, I don't make the rules
> 
> Anyway, these chapters will progressively get longer as the plot thickens so no worries there lol, and hopefully I'll be able to keep writing this fast for y'all through all my schoolwork lmao I'm slow af even without work


	3. Fearless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H o l y c r a p. There are plenty of reasons why this took forever to come out, one of them being that my go-to beta reader went MIA on me so I had to find a different one, but that didn't work out either so this chapter is basically just edited for grammar and stuff, not the technical things whoops, but hey!! New chapter!!!! I’ve already written a good amount for the next chapter too, so hopefully that’ll come out soon! 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading!

“Ya really weren't kidding, mate.” Jamison let out a grunt as he hefted a few broken boards to his chest with one arm, the other clutched to a plastic crutch. Funny story, really— He'd found it during the late afternoon in the barn, and when he'd headed outside with it and found Mako, the big ol’ guy couldn’t seem to look straight at him. “How much of this stuff is ‘ere, huh? I'll be doin’ this for the rest of me life at this rate.”

Mako held out a broom to Jamison and exchanged it for the broken boards. “Be thankful the structure’s still intact.”

As he walked off to dump the boards, Jamison let out a laugh. “Right, right, ‘course, lucky us—” Oh, and Mako was gone.

Jamison sighed and started to sweep away the layers of dust and debris on the ground. The actions themselves weren’t foreign to him, but the silence that now blanketed the ruins gave Jamison an incessant twitch in his fingers. He hummed something to try and still his hands when he couldn’t keep the broom steady.

Why clean this dump anyway? Mako didn’t seem to have any animals, or did he want them? Well, animals would liven the place up a bit, and Jamie had to admit that he wouldn’t mind a chicken and goat or two. Since it was just Mako, he probably would only want the necessary animals that gave milk and eggs. The nearest town was quite a ways away. Last time Jamison checked, it took about two hours or so to walk, in both the present and the future.

He shifted his grip on his crutch as he guided debris out the barn entrance. It wasn’t exactly his place to question Mako, anyway. Jamie shook his head, then lit up once he saw Mako coming up in the distance. “Oi! Took ya long enough, mate!”

Mako grunted past the disposable mask he wore and stepped past Jamison to take out more boards from inside the barn. Jamie turned and followed, his broom sweeping away more particles of debris. “So, uh, ya already got your house set up?” Jamison glanced back at Mako. “Whatcha gonna do with this ol’ barn when we’re done, eh? Is a big bloke like yourself gonna start a farm here again?”

Mako glanced at Jamison. “Do you ever shut up?” he muttered before hefting up the boards he’d collected and heading for the doors.

Jamie just laughed and shook his head as he swept away dust from the walls. “Nah, mate!” But he did shut his mouth once Mako left again. If he pissed Mako off, he could make Jamison leave for good, deal or not.

Oh, shit. What would happen when they finished cleaning up this place? Jamison didn’t even want to think about it.

So he didn’t. Which, when put into practice, was easier said than done, but Jamison pretended everything was fine and would be fine. It became more difficult once Mako came back into the barn.

Jamison bit his lip. “Oi, Mako?” The giant man grunted in reply. “What's gonna ‘appen once we’re all done with the barn?”

“We’ll move to the fields.”

The fields? That'd take a _long_ time. Perfect. “Will do, mate,” Jamison said with a grin. All his worries floated off like they were never there in the first place. “And hey, whatcha gonna do with all this land?”

Mako rolled his eyes as he picked up a spare broom. “Farm,” he said, monotone.

“Well, _yeah,_ but this sure is a lotta land. You're gonna farm it all by yourself?” At Mako’s silence, Jamison followed up with, “Ya have a plan for this dump?”

Mako picked up a garbage bag and swept dirt and dust into it. He stayed silent, but when Jamie opened his mouth to ask another question, Mako spoke. “You plan on ever leaving?”

Jamison let out a bark of a laugh. “Been planning for forever, mate. It’s been in me head for years.”

“What’s been stopping you?”

“Ah….” Jamison furrowed his brow. “Jus’ dunno where I’d end up, I s’pose. I know this place like the back of me hand, don’t know much else.”

Mako glanced between Jamison and his bag. “How long have you been here?”

“Hmm, about my whole life? This place wasn’t always such a dump, though.” Jamison shifted on his crutch and leaned against the wall of a stall. “But I like it ‘ere better than how it was.”

Mako grunted in response, though his curious tone gave him away. “Hey,” he said after a beat, “let’s take a break.” After he slung his bag over his shoulder, he led a confused Jamison out of the barn. Mako glanced back at Jamie as they came up to an ancient picnic table that definitely hadn’t been there the day before. “Are you hungry?”

Jamison raised an eyebrow and glanced between the table and the barn. “Ya want your homestead all up an’ runnin’; no need to play host, mate.”

“I’m not ‘playing’ anything.” Mako let out an exasperated sigh. “I just don’t want to overwork you, since….”

“Since I’m missin’ a leg?” Jamison scowled at the ground. “Don’t think that jus’ because of that, I won’t be able to handle cleanin’ up a barn or two.”

Mako shifted his weight and kept his gaze to the side. “Since you’re as thin as a damn stick. I don’t need you crushed by falling debris.”

Jamison lifted his hand to rest against the dip of his stomach. It was true that he hadn’t been able to eat today, but…. No, it wouldn’t hurt. “I ain’t gonna ‘ave to do any extra work ‘cause of this, am I?”

“What? No. Just the normal amount of work.”

“Huh. Well, alright.” Jamison looked up at Mako’s unmasked eyes. “You’re sure, right?”

Mako furrowed his brow. “Of course I’m sure. Just— C’mon.” He waved Jamison over and turned to lead him up the path to the farmhouse.

That is, if Jamison would follow. “Woah, mate, we’re goin’ to the farmhouse?”

“Uh…. Yeah?” Mako glanced back, confusion etched in his brow. “There isn’t a kitchen in the barn.”

Jamison flicked his gaze back and forth amongst everything and nothing at all, his shaky fingers fiddling with the hem of his tattered shirt. The first marker was the scraggly tree a few feet ahead which would show where, if Jamie was back in the present, the second marker would be, a shallow border in the dirt. Years into the future, however, the ditch could only be found by those who knew it had been there before. And to Jamison, that border was as obvious as his missing leg.

“Y’know what, mate, I can jus’ stay here. Got this leg ‘n all, aha.” Jamison wet his lips and took a step back, thankful for the crutch that kept him steady on his foot. “I’ll keep workin’ while you’re out gettin’ me food! No need to worry about me.”

Mako glanced back at the farmhouse before facing Jamison, an uneasy confusion in his eyes. “What’s wrong, Jamison?”

Jamie lifted his hand to tug on a few strands of his hair, his body pumped full of icy blood. “Nah, nah, ‘m fine! Jus’ a normal shitty thing I do, aha!” He gulped, then sped back to the barn as fast as he could, almost forgetting his crutch was stronger, made of generic plastic and not rotting wood.

Once Jamison fled into the safety of the barn, he leaned back against the inside of the door, slid to the ground, and put his head in his hands. If he woke up past that line….

If he woke up past that line, it wouldn’t be just another limb he’d lose.

Jamison flinched when he heard heavy footsteps come up to him. “Hey,” Mako murmured, his voice holding a tender gentleness that had Jamison lift his head in a daze. “You really need to tell me what’s going on.”

If it were anyone else, Jamison was sure he’d never even be in this situation, never even _want_ to tell that other person anything. Well— Hell. He couldn’t ever shut his mouth anyway.

“I jus’ can’t go to the farmhouse.” Jamison took a deep breath. “If anyone finds out, I’m dead. That’s it. Believe me if ya want to, mate. I ‘ave my shack an’ the barn, I ain’t need nothing else.”

Mako sat on the floor next to Jamison and looked up at the ceiling. “What makes you think people are gonna care where you go? This is all my land now, my farmhouse.”

“It’s not that simple!” Jamison snapped as his white-knuckled fingers grasped the fabric of his pants. “Ya don’t get it! I gotta watch me fuckin’ back every second of the day!”

“Jamison—”

Jamie grit his teeth and shot a glare at Mako. “An’ don’t go pretendin’ like you don’t think I’m some fucked-up freak, too! Hell, why the fuck do you even want my help in the first place? I only got one leg an’ barely two arms—”

“ _Jamison—_ ”

“—and I can’t even carry big boards or anythin’ useful like that; nah, I get to clean out all them dust bunnies! At least this shithole will be dust-free, right?”

“ _Jesus Christ,_ Jamison!” Mako put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Take a damn breath or something.”

Though he hated it, Jamison listened to Mako and rested his forehead on his knee as he tried to calm down. After some silence, Jamison muttered, “I jus’… _can’t_ go to the farmhouse, Mako.”

Mako patted Jamison’s back, then slipped his hand away and cleared his throat. “Well, that’s…fine, then.” A pause. “I…am grateful for your help, y’know. It’s better than doing this alone.” He crossed his arms and turned his gaze to the floor. “How have you survived like this?”

“...Trips to the town. Anywhere but the farmhouse.” Jamison lifted his hand to his throat, as if that would somehow soothe the soreness in that area. “Findin’ scraps, mostly. I’ve tried to leave, y’know? I really ‘ave. But…I jus’ dunno where I’d end up.”

Mako nodded. “I think I understand that part.” He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Listen. I dunno what sorta shit you’re going through, and I don’t really want to know. But as long as you don’t cause any trouble with me, you can stay here.”

Jamison turned his head toward Mako. “That’s good t’know, huh?” He bit his lip and averted his gaze. “Why’re ya keepin’ me around, Mako? Really? Just ‘ire some—some big ol’ bloke to ‘elp ya, ya don’t need me.”

“You have your reasons to stay away from the farmhouse, I have my reasons to work on my home by myself for the most part.” Mako let out a soft grunt as he stood up. “You…still up for food?”

Jamison giggled, the sound weak and tired. “No thanks, mate. Maybe tomorrow.” He used the wall to help himself stand, then put his crutch under his right arm. “It’s gettin’ late now. I should get back.”

Mako stood at the barn’s entrance and watched Jamison walk out. “Where do you go?” he called, Jamie a few feet away.

Jamison glanced back, brow furrowed. “My shack.”

“No— I mean, where do you go when you…go?” Mako huffed, irritated. How difficult could forming a question be? “When you’re gone for most of the day? You’re not in either your shack or the barn. Our deal applies to all hours of the day, not just afternoon and later.”

Jamie tilted his head, then averted his gaze. “Hell if I know, mate. Maybe I sleepwalk.” A beat passed before he began to continue to his shack. Like hell would he tell Mako the truth about that. If he somehow didn’t think Jamison was a freak now, he sure would if Jamison told him about all this time shit.

But god, did it hurt to imagine what would happen if Mako didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. It's about to get real up in here pretty soon lmao. Also, I'm slowly trying to make the chapters longer. I might cap future chapters at 3000 words (for reference, this one was around 2000) but that's probably still too short. 
> 
> Either way, I'll do my best to keep getting this story out there lol. Thank you all for (hopefully) putting up with me! Hopefully I'll get my shit together soon too


	4. Defenseless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would ya look at that! Here I am again with another chapter out!! Editing this finally worked out with me and my friend so hopefully this chapter’s satisfactory! I hope you enjoy it!!

When Jamison opened his eyes, the gentle light of dawn filtered through the cracks in his roof. He lifted his head from the dirt floor and yawned, his hands fumbling for his nearby desk. Reaching into the top drawer, Jamison pulled out his notebook and pencil and wrote a single sentence.

_Mako’s way nicer than i thought._

He wrote the date and then placed the notebook and pencil back in their drawer, then slid it shut. A long sigh spilled from his lips as he rested his back against a leg of his cot. Only a few hours until he could escape to sleep again, and then he could go back to helping Mako.

Jamison let out a grunt as he hefted himself up. He reached for his broken wooden crutch leaning against the wall, then picked up the key hidden inside a tear in his mattress. Once he unlocked the padlock keeping his door shut, he swung open the door and winced at the brightness of the sun. He retreated back into his shack to put his key back in its hiding place along with the padlock, then stepped outside, his free hand shielding his eyes. From what he could tell, everyone else had already started their daily work and was nowhere in sight. Perfect.

Jamison kept an eye out as he slunk into the barn. Though danger still lurked at every corner, the animals always helped Jamison keep calm. He smiled as a goat or two came up and sniffed him. As he pet one of the goat’s heads, he checked how empty the barn was. The handful of cattle had already been put out to pasture along with the one horse. The pigs, too, had been led out to the dirtier parts of the area, or at least two of them.

Jamison limped up to a gate and unlatched it, then knelt beside Bacon, the pig lying on its side in a pile of hay. Bacon snuffled at Jamie’s hand as he reached out to wipe some dirt from the pig’s snout.

“I’ll miss ya, ya big ol’ drongo,” Jamison whispered. He took a deep breath before lifting himself to his foot and heading out of the stall, latching the gate behind him. His business here was done.

Back outside, Jamison headed toward the chicken coop. A chill crept up his spine at no one in sight. In the future it was reassuring, but in the present, it only brought spilled blood.

He rounded the corner of the barn and came up to the coop. The chickens clucked in anticipation as he hefted a half-empty sack of chicken feed under his arm and unlatched the hook on the coop’s door. The birds crowded around his foot as he stepped inside and sat on the ground. Jamison tossed a few handfuls of feed a ways away so the chickens wouldn’t peck at him, then leaned back against the wire-fenced wall and let out a sigh.

Jamison knew it was coming, but he still flinched at the distant sound of the barn doors creaking open. He lifted his hand to tug at a clump of his hair at the first squeal Bacon let out as people forced the pig out of the barn. Though he couldn’t see any of it, Jamie experienced the same event enough times to know the drill. Bacon would be ushered into a truck that drove him to the town butcher, there wasn’t anything else to it. The nausea he felt settled throughout his body as he heard Bacon squeal one last time before the truck’s doors slammed shut. He heard muffled voices, and then the truck’s engine rumbled to life before it drove off.

Jamison gagged at the thought of tomorrow’s lunch: leftovers the butcher couldn't sell, a few choice slabs of meat. The meat of Jamison’s friend.

He took a deep breath. Maybe he should take up Mako’s possible offer of food tonight. Anything was better than eating Bacon.

Jamie tossed some more chicken feed before he stood up and headed out of the coop. He placed the bag of chicken feed back against the barn wall alongside the others.

Honestly, there wasn’t much else to do. All the cattle and sheep had been taken out to graze, the horse with them, and the last two pigs were in their pen.

Well, to the fields he’d go. Though it wasn't the perfect time for him to help Mako plant, it wouldn't hurt getting a little practice in for the future. Jamison adjusted his crutch before he headed away from the barn and toward the well.

Still, that silence. Jamison knew that silence all too well. He could hear his own heartbeat over the gentle breeze, pounding far too loud for him to notice anything but leaves rustle in the tall rows of corn in the distance.

Jamison took a deep breath. He was in the present. No way could he mix that up again. Though, if he was in the present, maybe it would be best to stay alert. After all, more people were around in the present than in the—

Jamison stumbled forward and he heard the echoes of the shot’s blast after he’d already collapsed to the ground. Splinters from his broken crutch dug into his thigh and forearm, the split pieces frayed from where a bullet burst through the wood.

“Aw, yeah! Bull’s-eye!” A distant voice laughed before Jamie heard two sets of footsteps grow closer. “See? Told ya I'm a good shot!”

Jamison grunted as he rolled onto his back, his splintered arm contorted close to his chest. The adrenaline that thrummed through his system kept the pain to a minimum, for now.

Jamie fought to sit up, but a foot slammed him back to the ground. “Honestly?” The man let out a hum before holding out his hand to his friend. “He looks like he could use another demonstration.”

The man who shot out Jamison’s crutch smirked, the dirt splattered across his face further contorting it in his glee. He gave his handgun to his friend, then stepped back and watched.

Jamison gulped, begging it wasn’t audible to the others. His ears still rang from the first shot and icy sweat pooled underneath him. Or was it blood? He could never tell.

“Where d’ya think I should hit him, Lucas?” The man with his foot on Jamison’s chest cocked his gun, then knelt to press the barrel of the gun against Jamison’s cheek. He gave a grin that rivaled Lucas’ smirk as he spoke again. “Elbow? Make him even more useless for a few weeks or so?”

Lucas laughed and crossed his arms. “You know as well as I do that you might as well just end it all for him, then. It’s the humane thing to do.”

Jamison drew in a sharp breath that left him gasping for air, his hands finding the man’s ankle. His fingers clenched onto the man’s jeans, the rough fabric his only anchor to life in the face of cold steel pressed to his cheek.

“P-please,” he croaked, his heart pounding in his chest, begging to continue on in this meaningless existence. “Think this o-over a bit, mate—”

The man let out a scoff and rammed the gun’s handle onto Jamie’s jaw. “Shut up with your whining.”

Jamison held back a whimper, the throbbing in his jaw a minor problem compared to the possibility of the gun misfiring. His rapid breaths caught in his throat as the man lifted the barrel of the gun to Jamison’s forehead.

“I think you’re right, Lucas,” the man said, cold eyes alight in glee. “Let’s see how he reacts to a bullet in his brain.” He curled his forefinger around the trigger and dug the barrel against Jamison’s flesh.

Jamison grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. Guess he’d known something like this would happen, sooner or later. No one protected him, and he certainly didn’t have anyone even remotely on his side here. He lived off labor and borrowed scraps, no one owed him anything.

His only regret would probably be Mako. After all, he’d never been able to fulfill his deal.

_Click._

Wait…. Click? Jamison furrowed his brow and peeked an eye open. The man above him had a disappointed frown on his face, though it soon morphed to allow him to howl in laughter.

“Fuck, Lucas, did you see his face?” The man wheezed as he stepped off Jamie. “Lucky little fucker.”

Lucas slung an arm over the man’s shoulders and snorted himself, his free hand covering his grin. “Goddamn, that was fun. Next time, let me keep the gun, got it?”

They walked off, leaving Jamison gazing up at the sky, his mind in a haze. Guess that was something else he knew would happen. It was too dangerous to keep that hope, though. Too dangerous to expect he’d come out of everything alive.

Jamison sat up, ribs aching, jaw throbbing every time he moved it. When he wet his lips, he tasted blood. So, nothing new.

What had he been doing again? Jamison glanced around while he held his hand over his pounding heart, the adrenaline giving his fingers an incessant twitch. His gaze found the well a few feet away. But even if he could get up, would he be able to stay standing?

Jamie took a deep breath. Maybe the well could wait. He had…he had to clean himself up before his adrenaline wore off. That’d be a bitch to work with.

The splinters had to be the worst, some resembling small twigs instead of thin needles. Jamison grit his teeth and bore the pain as he removed the wood from his arm, rivulets of blood soon trickling down to his elbow. He needed bandages.

Without much of a choice, Jamison turned so he was kneeling, leg trembling with his weight. By now, with each moment that passed, Jamison’s bleeding arm spiked with pain when he put weight on it. Just a few feet or so, then he’d be back at his shack. Just a few feet. Just a few more….

Just as numbness flooded Jamison’s body, so too did darkness over his vision.

Next thing he knew, he opened his eyes to the view of a hole in a roof. His roof. His shack…. How…?

“Awake?” Mako’s gruff voice filled the silence and eradicated the lingering terror in Jamison’s system.

Jamie nodded. “What…‘appened?” He lifted his hand to rub his eyes, then noticed the white bandages all down his arm. He furrowed his brow and uttered a single word: “Why?”

Mako scoffed. “Just rest for a while.” He picked up a bottle of water and held it out to Jamison. “Take this, too. Do you remember anything before you fell unconscious?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine.” Jamison sat up and leaned against the wall, then took the water. “Ya…carried me all the way here, didn’t ya?”

Mako nodded and crossed his arms. Even with his arms closer to him, he still took up most of the space. Jamison only had his mattress, but even so— Wait.

“And ya got me a…a mattress, too?” Jamison tried to meet Mako’s gaze, but the giant of a man stared off to the side. “Mako, why?”

“What’s so bad about me repaying you a bit?” Mako shifted and flicked his gaze to a top corner of the shack. “You’re helping me with everything. It’s the least I could do.”

Jamison didn’t get it, not at all, but he grew silent and nodded. Mako was…way, way nicer than he thought. “Thank…you,” he mumbled. “Ya didn’t ‘ave to, but…thank you for ‘elping me.”

Finally, Mako met Jamison’s gaze. Jamie never noticed before, really, how light danced across Mako’s irises to turn brown into amber or hazel, or how Mako’s mask couldn’t hide the tips of swollen pink scars that crept up his cheek and nose. Jamison had the urge to run his fingers along those scars, feel the texture and guess their story, similar to how he felt his stump, reminiscing the days when he never needed a crutch.

But Mako stood and wouldn’t meet Jamison’s gaze again. “I’ll bring you some food. Wait here.”

Jamison parted his lips, but any objection died before it left his tongue. “Okay,” was all he said as Mako left.

A moment passed before he lied back on his mattress. _His_ mattress…. And a new one at that. Why would Mako do all this for him? He was just supposed to be a helper, that was the deal. Maybe Mako wanted some heavier work done soon.

Jamison closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Either way, he had the opportunity to rest in the one place he felt safest.

He rolled to his side and examined his arm. From what he could tell, Mako was more deft with his fingers than he’d initially thought. That man held surprise after surprise, huh?

Jamison realized just how little he knew about Mako. That wasn’t hard to tell. But still…. There had to be a limit to his kindness.

Jamie would rather tell himself that than entertain any sliver of hope. It had always been that way: him against the world. Why would he be given an ally now, after so long without one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 and still not too many good interactions between the two main characters? I’ll fix that very soon ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	5. Talentless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been taking summer classes and they're killing me, also this chapter isn't beta'd, just edited for grammar and not sentence structure, I'm a perfectionist so it's another thing that's killing me, but in other news, I have good and bad
> 
> Good news is, I finally figured out how to write Mako more like he is in canon AND we’re getting close to the start of the main plot!! Everything up ‘till now has been leading up to this first plot climax in this story. I can’t wait to write it! And I think my summer classes end next week, so then I'll have a lot more time to write than I do now!
> 
> Leading off of that, the bad news is in the end notes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Mako settled back onto the shack’s floor, his brow somewhat furrowed. In annoyance or worry, Jamison couldn’t quite tell. Though, how could it be the latter?

At Mako’s expectant gaze, Jamison fumbled for an explanation.

“Tripped ‘n fell,” Jamison lied. “Me old crutch—‘s made of wood. Old wood. Broke on me.” He glanced down at his arm and examined his bandages once again. “Fucked me up real good.”

Mako stayed silent for a while. He followed Jamie’s gaze to his arm, then let out a sigh. “You don’t have to help me today.”

Jamison’s eyes grew wide and he fumbled with the spoon on his food tray. “N-no, I’m fine, mate. ‘S not like I can use my right arm anyway—”

“Jamison.” Mako’s voice, soft and very, very worried, cut through Jamie’s shaky words. “I don’t mind if you take one day off to heal.” He reached his hand out and picked up Jamison’s spoon, then pressed it into Jamison’s palm. “If you wanna sleep—”

“No!” Jamison flinched at his outburst and lowered his gaze. “I-I’m fine stayin’ awake, Mako. ‘M fine.” He stared at the spoon in his hand for a moment before dipping it into the oatmeal Mako made for him. “Thanks…for the food.” Though it was awkward using his non-dominant hand, Jamie brought the spoon to his lips and slurped up the meal. 

Taste didn’t matter at the moment, just quantity. It wasn’t that it tasted terrible—it tasted like a goddamn gourmet meal—but the way Jamison’s stomach twisted as he swallowed almost made him vomit up the little food he’d gotten down. 

“Slow down,” Mako murmured, his hand outstretched to nudge Jamie’s hand away from his face. 

Jamison let out a grumble, but did as Mako asked and took a breath. His hands trembled as he pulled his bowl close to his chest, taking his time as he brought his spoon back to his lips. Once he gulped and let his body finish protesting food that wasn’t trash for once, he replied. 

“‘Aven’t eaten in a while…. Last time was maybe…yesterday mornin’? It was jus’ ‘alf an apple, though.” Jamison wet his lips and gave Mako a lopsided grin. “I really don’t eat much, but it’s alright.”

Mako stared at Jamison. Though silent, his mind seemed to be alight in thought. Jamie had an idea as to what those thoughts could be about. Things like doubt, pity, all things Jamison never wanted others to feel. Most didn’t. Most never even bothered to ask in the first place. Seeing Mako express emotions like that….

“‘M fine,” Jamie pressed and turned to the side so he couldn’t see Mako’s eyes. “Gimme a minute an’ I’ll eat the rest. No worries there! You can go on an’ keep workin’; sorry for messin’ up with your schedule an’ all that.”

Again, silence. But this time that quiet didn’t last for long. “Jamison….” Mako, quiet and hesitant, was so different than the image his large body gave that it was almost comical. But Jamison couldn’t laugh, not now. “I appreciate your help. But this….” 

He let out a heavy sigh, one that had filled up his whole body, then clasped his hands together. “I don’t want my only helper to end up killing himself over something like clumsiness or however you keep getting hurt.” He eyed Jamison’s arm, then his face. “I’m not saying you’re lying, but….”

“Nah, I’m lyin’.” Jamison chuckled, the sound dead in the air. Well, no going back now. “This place ‘s me only home. I don’t wanna say anythin’ that could get me sent away or killed.”

Mako furrowed his brow, his gaze expecting an answer. 

Jamison wrung his hand in the hem of his shirt. This was really happening. Mako, a huge man—probably the most enormous man Jamie had ever seen—with so much strength and power, was listening to him babble on and on without getting annoyed or angry. Now  _ that _ was a miracle.

“The people I know….” Jamison took a deep breath. “The people I know ‘ave somethin’ against me. Or they jus’…fuck with me for fun. Either way, they’re dangerous. If I piss ‘em off….” He lifted his hand to his jaw and felt how just a touch made the area throb harder with pain.

Now Mako had a dark emotion in his eyes, one that sent a chill down Jamison’s spine. 

Jamison backtracked. “They don’t come ‘ere, though! Well…. N-not…here, exactly.” He wet his lips. “No need t’ worry.”

The malicious look in Mako’s eyes faded, replaced with relief. “That’s good. If they ever show up, I’ll beat them off my property.”

How unlucky for Jamison that his enemies were all in the present. 

“I’ll be sure t’ tell ya if I see ‘em, then,” Jamie murmured, ending the sentence with a little false smile that didn't last long. 

Mako frowned, but didn't press the matter. "...Any better?”

Jamison nodded and ran the pad of his thumb across the bandages on his other arm. “Mako? Can we…take a walk ‘r somethin’?”

Mako paused, then nodded. He hefted himself up and grabbed the plastic crutch in the corner of the shack, then held it out to Jamison. He helped him stand before leading Jamie outside. 

“Thanks for all your ‘elp,” Jamison said. “Really. I don’t…. I don’t deserve it. I’ve barely done much work for ya, an’ when I do, it’s you that does most o’ the heavier stuff….”

Mako shook his head and replied with, “You’ve been a great help.”

Oh, thank god Mako had turned away, his back to Jamie. Jamison’s leg trembled under the weight of the value of Mako’s words, and he rubbed the palm of his hand against his eyes, his throat tight in his desperation to prevent any tears from spilling. It would do no good to show such weakness.

He didn’t deserve those words. He didn’t deserve Mako. 

Without turning back, Mako motioned for Jamison to follow him toward the empty fields. Jamison grit his teeth to muffle any whimpers he might make as he trailed behind in Mako’s shadow. 

Mako glanced behind himself. “Too fast?” He slowed his pace until Jamison was beside him. 

“N-Nah mate,” Jamison said, fumbling over the words. He wiped his damp palm on his shirt and cleared his throat. “Jus’…lost in me thoughts, I guess. Sorry.”

Mako nodded and plodded onward, though made sure Jamison didn’t fall behind him again. “You know,” he murmured after a moment, “it’s been a hell of a time being stuck with you.”

Jamison let out a laugh. “I ‘aven’t even been workin’ with ya long, ya ol’ bloke.” 

“It’s been enough.” Mako gave him a sideways glance, then looked forward again. His brow furrowed as he scanned the nearby empty fields. Silent, he stopped Jamison by the crumbling well. “This work?”

“No idea,” Jamison said as he peered down into the darkness below the earth. “It’s always been kinda useless.” 

Like him, his mind supplied. 

Jamison shook the thought off with a violent jerk away from the well’s edge. 

“See somethin’?” Mako looked down the well, but Jamison gripped Mako’s sleeve and pulled him back. 

“No, I jus’….” Jamison’s mouth went dry and he couldn’t avert his gaze from Mako’s brawny arm. Holy fuck. What the fuck.

Jamison jumped back and forced his head to turn to the side. His fingers fumbled with his shirt, then twitched up to grasp his own gangly bicep. 

The difference was…. He’d never realized just how  _ built _ Mako was until now. He never paid much attention to detail anyway, but only realizing this now….

“I-if ya wanna water your crops, there’s a shitty drip irrigation system for this nearest field ‘ere.” Jamie wet his lips and gulped before motioning to said field so Mako wouldn’t stare at him any longer. “Everythin’ else is by ‘and. Since it’s jus’ us though, I’m sure one field is—”

Mako hissed out a curse and glared in the direction of the fields. He clenched his hands into fists, but took a breath and relaxed them. 

“Uh, what? What’s wrong, mate?” Jamison raised an eyebrow. 

“...Some assholes keep stealing from me.” Mako turned to Jamison with a sigh. “I swear, I’ll give them hell when I catch them.”

That caused a broad grin to spread across Jamison’s face and an erratic twitch to thrum through his fingers. “I can set up traps if ya want,” he babbled, eyes alight in glee. “Gimme the materials an’ I’ll give ya results!”

Mako let out a huff of a laugh, almost reluctant. “Just tell me where each trap is and what it does.”

“‘Course, Mako!” Jamison bounced on his foot, his mind spinning with ideas. “First’re the mines—”

Mako gave Jamison a hard look, almost a glare. 

Jamison furrowed his brow and raised his hand to twirl his fingers in his hair. A pause, then his eyes widened. “I ain’t gonna kill ‘em, though! If that’s what you’re worried about!”

Mako sighed. “Using explosives is a bit…extreme.”

“Ah….” Jamison pouted, but his disappointment didn’t last long. “Right! Well, gimme some rope an’ a rock, an’ I can do anythin’!”

Mako let out a grunt and crossed his arms. “Better.” He turned and headed back toward the barn, Jamison trailing a step behind. 

When they reached the barn, Mako stopped. “Look for anything useful,” he said. “I’ll check my house.”

A spike of fear shot through Jamison’s chest, one that almost made him cling to Mako’s arm and beg him to not put himself in that danger. Almost.

What he did instead was far more surprising.

“I can search with ya,” Jamie sputtered. “I know what I’ll be lookin’ for, an’ it’ll be faster with both o’ us lookin’ around.” 

Mako stared at Jamison for a moment, long enough for Jamison to regret his words. Just when Jamison was about to speak, Mako turned away and said, “Just don’t make a mess.”

“You got it, mate!” Jamison grinned, excitement bubbling in his chest. Not from the prospect of going into the farmhouse—no way in hell—but of something far more gentle, more tender in nature. 

They walked back along the path, past the barn, past the small grove of trees with the new picnic table at its foot. Though they were small, the changes to Jamison’s haven brought along with them a feeling of normality, as if the land was always supposed to have its picnic table, or a shack its mattress. In a sense, that made the farm feel more like a home to Jamie than it ever did in the present. 

But as he took another step, Jamison’s blood ran cold. Through the sole of his boot, Jamison felt a foreign depression in the dirt that set his blood on fire, adrenaline pumping into his system so loudly he could no longer hear the breeze wisping through his hair or the faint cry of crows in the distant fields. 

Jamison dragged his gaze to the side and saw the tree, the marker. The border didn’t exist in the future, he reassured himself. It was just a random dip in the ground. It meant nothing. 

Movement in the corner of his eye made Jamison flinch, but he let out a strained breath. All it had been was Mako turning to give him a quizzical stare. 

“‘M fine,” he pressed before picking up his pace to walk ahead of Mako. But his trembling hands gave away his lie.

This side of the farm didn’t look too different from the side more familiar to Jamison. Still littered with debris and burnt wood, the path Jamison and Mako followed cleared up once they were a few feet from the farmhouse. 

Close up, the house wasn’t much different than the obscure mass of white and azure that Jamison had always seen it as. But now, of course, the details were far more crisp. Faded blue paint made up the floor of the porch, the fencing around it either missing or broken in half. As Jamison looked up, the white paint that covered all two stories of the house’s walls made him wince under the sun’s glaring light. All the walls were covered in peeling paint and spattered with the occasional broken board, but that was an improvement compared to most of the glimpses Jamison had snuck of the ruins before Mako bought the property. 

“So this is where ya live, huh?” Jamison’s curiosity got the better of him as he hobbled up the creaky stairs to the porch. “It ain’t…haunted, right?” A bubbly laugh fell from his lips as he examined Mako’s crappy job at boarding up a hole in the front door. 

Mako rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “Cut the crap.” The boards below his feet creaked as he stepped up to the door and pulled it open. The screen door, too, let out an indignant shriek as it turned in its rusted hinges. 

Mako ushered Jamie inside. The first room was open, with a battered brown couch against the left wall, a wooden coffee table in front of it. A near-empty bottle of beer sat on its side atop the table, and a dark trail of stained alcohol led from the bottle and down the table to end in an inky, damp spot on the floor. 

With a sigh, Mako stepped forward and picked up the bottle, then walked into the kitchen at the back of the room to dispose of it. Jamison followed him and saw him start to throw out an empty box of oatmeal grounds. 

“Thanks again for the food,” Jamison said, gaze taking in all his surroundings, anything but Mako. “Y’know, you’ve put up with lots of my shit, mate. Now that’s a real accomplishment!”

As Jamie let out a cackle of a laugh, Mako grunted and muttered, “Go do your job.”

“Right, right, ‘course! I was jus’ gettin’ to that!” Jamison rolled his eyes and grinned, now back with his usual pep. “Ya got any scrap?”

The search didn’t take long at all, and soon Jamison had an array of tools and materials scattered about Mako’s living room. Jamison sat in the middle of the floor, a handful of rope in one hand, a screwdriver in the other, and a metal disk in his lap. Mako watched him from the couch, his gaze curious and full of questions, but hesitant. 

“Where did you learn all this?” Mako asked when Jamison was almost done with his first trap.

“Trial an’ error,” Jamison said through a mouthful of screwdriver. He twisted a spring in between two metal disks, then squeezed the disks together to test the spring’s elasticity. He took the screwdriver from his mouth to tighten a screw. “Not that ‘ard, really. Jus’ mess with things until they work, ya know?” 

Mako nodded. His gaze slid to the stump of Jamison’s leg, then snapped back to the trap. “Do you like making those things?”

Jamison looked up at Mako and grinned. “It’s one o’ me favorite things t’ do! Keeps me mind sharp ‘n all!” He set the finished trap on the floor and stretched his arms above his head. Jamison winced at the spike of pain that shot down his right arm, but honestly? If he could rely on Mako to patch him up, he wasn’t as scared of the pain anymore. 

“Right, well, let’s set this ol’ bastard up.” Jamison reached for his crutch and jumped to his foot, then grabbed all the parts of his trap.

“Need help?” Mako hefted himself up. He went to Jamison’s side, but Jamison hobbled toward the door without him. 

“I got it, mate,” Jamie said, rope and springs hanging off his arms, the hand holding his crutch also clinging to a few stray scraps of metal. “You can ‘elp me find a heavy enough rock for this thing! Finish off th’ whole setup.” Jamison didn’t know why, but that statement left a warm feeling in his chest, a feeling of companionship. 

As they left the farmhouse, Jamison couldn’t help but put an extra spring to his step. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh the bad news is that I’m unfortunately a perfectionist and considering how I made Mako slightly different in this chapter, I feel the need to rewrite all my previous chapters, so. Uh. Before the next chapter can be written, I ‘have’ to rewrite the previous four chapters, maybe this one too if the chapters before don't line up as well anymore. 
> 
> Since it’s a rewrite and I’m working with old material, it should go by fast! Unlike me trying to write something from scratch lol. So, if you’re feeling up to it, by the time I upload chapter six, I’d appreciate it if you reread the previous chapters! You don’t have to of course, but who knows, maybe I added some extra foreshadowing you just can’t miss ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Sorry for the extra long wait times, but thank you all so much for all the wonderful comments I’ve gotten! Each one puts a smile on my face and I wish I could properly express just how much they mean to me. I might be saying the same thing over and over, but really, thank you all so much. 
> 
> also im still a non-Australian coward that doesn't understand the slang so bear with me when i do finally bust out more slang in Jamie's dialogue because hooley dooley


End file.
